


and i know it well

by paopuleaf



Series: voicemails to/from ascension [2]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Light Angst, Other, The Coffee Cup, The Crabitat, Voicemail, calling someone who isnt around to keep them updated on all theyre missing, haunt wednesday is not IN this but she's the clawmentator. in my heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paopuleaf/pseuds/paopuleaf
Summary: "hey, luis," ze starts. halting. no calls since siesta started, just letters shoved haphazardly under stacks of their memory disks they left for hir to safekeep. "been a while, if you're getting these. we're playing blaseball again, new teams. not permanently. they said this one should be fun."-(a series of voicemails left around games, a series of updates. a series of "love you, see you soon"-s.)
Relationships: Luis Acevedo/Tot Clark, Tot Clark & The Garages
Series: voicemails to/from ascension [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057883
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	and i know it well

**Author's Note:**

> haha wow [gets really emotional about tot & luis for like the fourth time]

tot had been to the crabitat, before. garages and crabs games, the season nine choke - it felt lively, then, filled with people and a team and a  _ warmth _ that ze wouldn't have expected from a hollowed-out corpse.

the coldness, ze thinks, stepping over a piece of decaying peanut shell, is much more in line with expectations. standing in the middle of the debris-littered field makes hir feel like ze's intruding on something holy. walking over graves. 

maybe they can feel it, wherever they are, hir careful steps on the overgrown grass. maybe they know nothing at all. tot picks up a piece of metal and begins to carry it back across the field, quiet.

the least ze can do is clean up a little bit.

patches of grass where the hall stars had once stood lay barren. a jagged shard of peanut flesh dug into first base, cracking it in half. the place where fridays and crabs had switched left feedback in the air, buzzing, and chitin in the grass. 

"ah, are you here for the games coming up?" 

tot blinks. adjusts the weight in hir arms so ze can see who's talking - the groundskeeper, ze thinks, holding two brooms in twin claws. "that's right," ze affirms, steady as always. "trying to clean up a bit."

"i do appreciate the help. these ol' trunbo legs aren't what they used to be, since big debrah started mournin'." yurts waves one long crab leg out, before shaking his head. "you go set all that mess down, i've got a broom with your name on it right here."

"got it." tot lets the pieces fall into the dumpster set up right outside, walks back through the hallowed veins and takes the broom. 

the company is nice. yurts' rambles about the crabs fills up the dead silence of the stadium, until tot can almost pretend he's a clawmentator, and there's a game happening around hir, invisible to their eyes. 

"did you know them well?" 

"from the very beginning, of course!"

"have you been here the whole time?" 

yurts laughs, and tot raises an eyebrow through the bandages, mouth still set in a small line. "well, of course. a groundskeeper has a job to do, you know. the field was always… too intimidating to get around to, alone. the halls are much easier."

"ah." tot thinks ze gets it, a little bit. maybe not fully. when ze imagines walking onto the field, if hir team had vanished, leaving hir behind - ze can't, really. something just out of hir grasp. "the rest of the team should help when they get here."

"maybe we'll have this whole old place cleaned up by the beginning of the season, eh? i figure a bit of scrap'll shake it up, though."

"that'll be fun." 

yurts smiles as he leans over and shifts a piece of metal a little to the left, right in the way of the path to first base from home plate. tot's pretty sure that's illegal, but ze's not a cop. spicing things up is always fun, anyway. makes the years blend together less. 

the rest of the team do help, when they get there. it's easy work, when there's so many people, one of the other pitcher-turned-batters offering to use her truck for some of the hauling. ze recognizes some of the others - nagomi nava, from the beams, and arturo's there too, when ze manages to catch a glimpse of them. ze forgets moments later, but the familiarity remains. summers pony. 

tot got lucky, getting so many of hir own team, or maybe unlucky. time will tell.

"you don't have a bat," nagomi states, day before it all begins, her eyes tracking hir as ze shifts. "you should pick one up from the locker room."

"those aren't ours."

"they aren't anyone's, really." she blinks, and her eyes do not blink with her. "they won't mind." there's something like empathy there. ze doesn't read into it.

tot doesn't want to take a bat with a legacy attached, with an owner, someone who's just-missing and not gone. but ze walks into the locker room anyway, nagomi's eyes locked on hir back, and picks up the one ze knows is luis', testing the weight in hir hands. 

a legacy attached. three-hundred-and-more years worth of one. if there was anyone ze had the right to honor, in this ghosts' room, it was them, ze thinks.

hir batting skills aren't bad. practices with luis, switching between pitcher-batter even if they were bad at both, still fresh in hir memory despite being years-old. tot steps up to bat and practices and lets the day flash by in a haze. a blink, like so many others.

the rest of the fwxbc shuffles out of the crabitat. 

ze remains, sitting on the pitcher's mound, one hand holding hir phone while the other tugs at the bandages on hir wrist and tries not to pull them off completely.

"hey, luis," ze starts. halting. no calls since siesta started, just letters shoved haphazardly under stacks of their memory disks they left for hir to safekeep. "been a while, if you're getting these. we're playing blaseball again, new teams. not permanently. they said this one should be  _ fun _ ." tot lets a little more inflection into hir voice, even though ze knows luis reads hir like an open book without it.

vulnerability exposed to the speaker of a phone. "i'm looking forward to it, all things considered. there's new players, in the mix, heard the commissioner got roped in too. it's something new. the siesta doesn't…" the first tuck of bandages unfurls, and hir fingers are visible, now. "i'm on the flat whites. you would've been on heavy fc. we're playing in the old crabitat- cleaned it up. was wondering if you could feel it.

"is it like a weight being lifted? all the god flesh off your shoulders? did you even notice at all? sometimes i wonder if the telescope is a two-way street." up to hir elbow. re-doing it'll be a pain. ze can't stop. "your groundskeeper is nice. he's waiting for you guys. i guess we all are. the observatory's there, and i visit with ver, and… we keep going.

"i'll… let you know how the games go. might be for fun, but i'm still aiming to win." tot pauses. grins a little, the movement only half-forced. "you know. for fun. did you know thomas dracena is our team captain? i'd riot if i knew who to go to. nagomi nava, from the beams, she's acting as co-captain, so i mostly defer to her. i think i'm the next in line- even though i'm usually a pitcher. our practices weren't for nothing after all."

tot lets the bandages fall from hir fingers, the  _ cold  _ seeping into the empty space on skin and falling to hir bones. the corpse around hir seems to warm in response, suffocating air forcing hir head up, towards the stars. 

"i'll call you after the game tomorrow. hopefully we've got a win on our belt by then." pause. tot remembers the next words, has said them a million times before. they still sit for a moment on hir tongue before ze can say them. "love you, see you soon." 

_ click. _

-

the first game is a home game, for the flat whites - the pandemonium artists arrive in the dead of night, cheery as they crowd into the shared hotel lobby and talk about strategy. nothing too important, that tot can pick up. they seem excited. it’s their first blaseball game, ze picks up, and thinks -  _ oh, fun.  _ fresh faces. new things to look forward to. despite everything, it’s hard to be surprised by blaseball, anymore.

every cloud ze had seen gather the night before seems to converge over the crabitat, smelling faintly of… coffee. fitting for the coffee cup. it’s only when castillo turner takes out a ball-sized coffee bean and hits one of the pandemonium batters with it that tot realizes ze might’ve missed a memo by being on the lineup, this time around.

_ maddony candy is Beaned by a double roast with body and butterscotch toffee. maddong candy is now Wired!  _

the clawmentator’s -  _ commentator’s,  _ tot tries to correct, but it doesn’t stick - voice is staticky around the edges, and ze barely recognizes it from the hotel lobby, one of the shadowy corners ze had avoided going back to hir room. familiar-unfamiliar. 

_ breeze regicide is Beaned by a half city roast with hints of lavender. breeze regicide is now Tired! _

tot shuffles that away in hir memory and watches as the artists manage three points in one inning. the  _ first  _ inning.

hm.

“so we didn’t win the first game,” is the first thing out of hir mouth when ze starts another voicemail, voice light. “they kind of kicked our asses, actually. seven to our two. turns out i missed a memo by being on the lineup- pitchers get to smack people now, legally. they’re all carrying around these bags of coffee beans, the size of my fist. didn’t get hit with one this game, but odds are it’ll happen eventually.

“doesn’t make anyone unstable or anything, although that would’ve been fun. you can either be tired, or wired, and i think being wired gives you more points? tired takes away. it’s a nice mixup, i guess, even if summers swears it lost us the game.” 

tot settles down on the field, holding one hand up to frame the claws looming overtop. “crabitat’s still a good place to play. i’m catcher next game, for the most part- that’ll be in pandemonium, looking forward to seeing what that’s about. i’ll take pictures for you if it’s cool. or even if it’s not. who knows if it’ll exist after the coffee cup’s over. there’s... you know that time we got stuck in that one building, and it felt really off, even though it just looked like a normal building?

“liminal space. something like it. at this point, i wouldn’t be surprised if the crabitat was the only normal place, and that’s… saying something.” a pause. “i’m not used to talking this much, luis, it’s exhausting. don’t know how you do it. when you come back- i think i’m getting the hang of it. letters are still easier, though. the birds won’t send them up wherever you are, and i think valentine games ran into the same problem, but… they’re still there. you’ll have a lot to catch up on when you get back.

“love you. see you soon.”

_ click. _

-

pandemonium is sticky sweet with coffee smell, cloying and heavy in tot's mouth when ze inhales. the place is chaos, a shuffling mess of architecture and art, shades in the stands, the team chattering as they crowd around the pitchers gathering their beans. tot leans over and snaps a few pictures, scrunching hir nose at the coffee clouds hanging dark in the background.

"hey, tot, you ready to catch?" someone enters hir peripheral vision - arturo, right,  _ fuck,  _ ze  _ was  _ catching this game, huh. and arturo was pitching. they seem to pick up on hir expression and laugh, soft. "sorry, sorry, understandable. you seemed to remember yesterday, so i thought…"

"i've been distracted," tot says, slipping hir phone away. arturo settles on the rail next to hir, tapping lightly on the metal. ze makes sure not to look away.

"this place is pretty distracting. i've gotten some good pictures, though. i'll print them out and give them to you later?" tot would usually just tell them to text hir, but - the situation's always a little fuzzy, with arturo. texting was a hit or miss. "for luis, right?" 

"hm. yeah."

"tell them hi for me?" hm. tot gives them a blank look, and arturo snickers, ducking their head. "yeah yeah, i know. i'll say it myself when they're back."

a nod. "sounds good to me."

arturo hops off the railing and waves, and tot gives one back, short. waits for them to leave eyesight before looking back to the field - huh. 

ze's playing catcher this game, right. can't quite remember the pitcher. whatever. ze puts the stickers on hir fingertips anyway.

(gets into a tussle with one of the shades outside before the game starts. ze didn't know ghosts had bones but, well. now this one's broken.)

top of one. tot steps up to the plate and gets ready to swing. 

jay greyscale looks hir up, down. hand goes to the bag that tot's becoming accustomed to seeing. 

_ tot clark is beaned by a espresso roast with rich, velvety chocolate. tot clark is now Wired! _

the spot where the bean hit is probably going to bruise, tot thinks, before the energy kicks in, shooting across hir skin.  _ so that's what they mean by wired, huh.  _ firsthand experience. ze hits a ground out to arbutus bones and waits for it to wear off.

it doesn't.

it's still there by the top of the sixth inning, actually, still there after nagomi nava hits into a double play and gets two outs on the board. if ze hits an out here, it won't be too bad. maybe on brand. the energy thrums under hir skin. 

tot clark steps up to bat.

jay greyscale pitches.

_ tot clark hit a solo home run! 1.5 points scored! _

the satisfaction runs bone deep, tot letting something content and heavy settle in hir chest, sticking there for the rest of the game. the fwxbc wins, three point five to one point five, and ze finds hirself settling against one of the walls right after. dials luis' number. a constant.

_ leave a voicemail after the beep. _

"did you know ghosts have bones?

"we're in pandemonium, second game's over. got into a fight with a ghost before the game. all fun, obviously, but i heard something crack and… yeah. fucked up." tot huffs, and ze knows luis'll hear it as a laugh. "i got pictures of it all. more importantly, though, i got firsthand experience with being beaned, the… nonlethal kind, you remember."

the energy has died down to a hum, and tot can feel the bruise, now, quietly aching. the artists' pitchers don't pull their punches, and ze says as much. "gave me energy, though. a… lot of it. i don't think i've had that much in actual, literal centuries." a pause. "and guess who hit a solo home run for one and a half points?

"right after nagomi nava hit into a double play, too. felt pretty good, actually. i can see why you like being a lineup player. we won the game- not because of it, but a nice add-on. hoping to win the next two, move onto the next round. i've been hearing things about the rest of the guest teams that sound…" tot hums. "interesting."

coffee fumes threaten to suffocate as ze inhales, seeping from the cracking walls.  _ pandemonium itself is unstable, _ tot thinks, and then,  _ luis is going to love this.  _ "i think this place wants me to leave it alone, for now. i've got to hang up and get back to the team- i'll… yeah. call you after the last game of the round.

"love you, see you soon."

_ click. _

-

the last game of the round is played in pandemonium, again. tot feels a little fuzzy around the edges, both from the exhaustion of playing blaseball again and the hope of being able to move onto the next round. 

top of one, again. up to bat, again.

_ tot clark is beaned by a high roast with complexity and depth. tot clark is now Wired! _

hit square in the chest by a bean - again.

the fuzziness fades. strike, swinging. ball. strike, looking.

the bat in hir hands has never felt more hir own and luis', co-existing. tot glances to nava, over on first plate. gets ready.

_ tot clark hits a single! _

the commentator sounds familiar, tot muses between innings, glancing up at the box. like one from the crabitat games, when the crabs were still down. is it just in hir head?

doesn't matter.

top of two.

thomas dracaena ( _ ugh _ ) and nagomi nava both hit singles, in front of hir. ze steps up to bat and watches as the pitcher fishes around in xir bag for a coffee bean, taking one out and -

_ tot clark is beaned by a blonde roast with grass-fed butter. tot clark is now Tired! _

tot barely has the time to feel the exhaustion before compass' face flickers, and there's another coffee bean coming at them, hitting the same place and  _ hir pregame ritual is breaking bones, not xirs- _

the commentator calls out as it makes contact.  _ tot clark is beaned by a half city roast with hints of lavender. tot clark is no longer Tired! _

_ tot clark draws a walk! _

_ eye of light, future sight, take a walk to first tonight _ , ze hums, lifting one hand to shift hir bandages into place. maybe luis is watching. that'd make more of their voicemails easier to slot into context. the commentator says something or another about thomas dracaena, and ze turns their attention back to the field.

fwxbc wins their third game by a lead of fifteen points. 

"hey, luis," tot says, not much later, having found a way through the crumbling walls of the stadium to sit on top of the commentator's box. the teams and ghosts have mostly filed out since the game ended. maybe they can sense the way the city's threatening to fall back apart into the shadows it came from alongside its team, flickering around the edges.

ze can deal with that when it comes.

"so, guess who just got to the next round of the tourney?" hir voice is as deadpan as ever - if they’re watching, they’ll know, but tot tries hir best to keep the tells out of hir voice. wants it to be a surprise. ze hasn’t been alive for centuries not to be a  _ little _ dramatic. 

if ze pauses for long enough, ze can almost hear a response,  _ hmm, i wonder _ , playful and crackling at the edges. or - something like that. luis is nothing if not unpredictable. "did you guess? that's right, the flat whites. i stole a base today- thomas dracaena hasn't done it once, and that's his job. delighted to upstage him. we're playing in the crabitat half of the time, we should all be doing some basecrime, right? you'd think.

"got beaned a couple more times. coffee dates are probably going to be off the table for a while once we get back. the lavender feels like it's stuck in my bandages." tot picks at the ones around hir neck, sighing as ze picks up the perfume-sweet scent again. "this tourney is fun, but it's… sensory hell."

a quick check of the cracked screen at the other end of the stadium doesn't tell hir much about how the other games have gone. "well, moving on, we're going to the next round. still not sure who we'll be playing against, but i'm sure we'll play just as well. maybe better. i think most of the guest teams got knocked out in the first round, which… i was looking forward to meeting them.

"ver told me about the bc noir, the team he was playing against. they only had two people, one pitcher, one batter, and the batter split themselves to be able to play multiple positions at once. liquid friend, maybe. i think you would've been playing against them too, if you were down here- heavy foam." the commentator's box rumbles beneath hir, and ze ignores it other than a careful shift. 

"they’ve got a nautical theme going on. foghorn noises and all. could’ve thrown the pitcher off by just opening your mouth and bwomp-ing at them, would’ve gotten a kick out of that. can’t throw beans at you if their ears are bleeding," tot jokes, voice open, "and even if they could, maybe they'd just go right through." 

at the edge of the horizon, a series of buildings fold in on themselves and vanish. "... hm. i think this is my cue to leave." 

tot stays on the phone as ze walks down to the bus where the rest of the team is waiting, shuffling into one of the seats in the back and settling against the window. "the place is falling apart. returning to the shadows, i'd guess. i'll see if i can get any pictures of it for you after i hang up." the bus fills with chatter, noise, lingering coffee bean scents. "hm. yeah, i'd better go. love you, see you soon."

_ click. _

-

the milk proxy society's got nearly as many garages as the fwxbc has, and tot finds hirself in the middle of them the night before the first game, passing around coffee bean flavors ze remembers getting hit with so they can play a belated game of bingo.

"excited for the games! oh, and medium-dark roast with body and butterscotch toffee, for my round." malik taps his pencil against the paper, ears twitching as he grins. tot marks off a corner square. "what was pandemonium like?"

"pandemonium," tot deadpans. malik laughs, goodwin's fixed smile widening a hair. it'd be unsettling if ze wasn't already used to it.

"oh, wonderful joke!" she claps her hands together, two of her shadow arms mimicking the motion. "also, i was 'beaned' by a blonde roast with dark chocolate and toffee. that gives me 'bingo'!" 

"can you get bingo on your own turn?"

"is there a rule saying you  _ can't? _ "

"hm. congrats, goodwin."

"yeah, congrats!"

the celebration goes for a few moments longer, before settling down, the papers shuffled into a messy pile in the middle. "new weather's been announced," arturo says, holding out their phone. "no idea what it does yet. seems like most of sibr are still focused on the games."

"glad they made it past the first round! we didn't get to see any guest teams yet- tot, arturo,  _ c'mon,  _ give us a little more than 'pandemonium' to work off of." malik's tail lashes, and one of goodwin's shadow arms pins it in place, before letting go. "thanks, goodwin- back on track! there had to be something interesting."

tot exchanges a look with arturo, and they flick through their phone again, handing it to malik. "we got pictures," they explain, waving their hand. "can't do it justice, really. it was always moving, shifting."

"unstable."

"yeah! unstable, a little bit." 

malik's free hand drifts to his neck almost subconsciously, the place where smoke had drifted in curling waves, aching. he gives tot a look - a question, really. ze shrugs. maybe it did feel like being unstable. the feeling of it’s slipped from hir memory, by now, only snippets of between games and talking to luis, jaylen, the team about it still there.

he searches for a moment longer, before leaning over to show the pictures to goodwin. tot messes with the bandages on hir hand idly, and arturo tells hir to  _ stop that, i just helped you this morning,  _ and ze stops even though the job isn't quite as familiar because ze appreciates it anyway. 

malik and goodwin are chattering about pandemonium folding in on itself. maybe the crabitat will do the same, if the fwxbc loses. maybe all of baltimore will collapse in on a central point - the inner harbor, or the olde one's corpse, or maybe just some hungry house, left behind. huh. wouldn't that be something to see.

-

the first game of the round is… normal, as far as normal goes. the second game - new weather, green tinted clouds - is unique all on its own. 

_ malik destiny is poured over with a second crack roast blending umami and oak! malik destiny gets a free refill! _

tot watches as something lowers from the clouds, and a cup of coffee is poured over malik’s head, nearly soaking him with coffee. his expression is unreadable, from the field, but he peels the sticky hair out of his face and hits a double anyway.

hm.

the weather finally gets to hir in the first inning of the fourth game, a porcelain cup dumping a brew on hir. it’s - too much to identify, but the commentator calls out _ tot clark is poured over with a medium roast blending extra cheese and pumpkin! tot clark gets a free refill! _ and well, that’s that, really. hir bandages are sticky.

“this is uncomfortable,” ze murmurs, in the dugout between bats. 

nagomi nods in sympathy before she steps up to bat, and god, ze hopes ze hits some sort of good run, soon.

by the time the fwxbc wins the game, confirming their place in the next round, tot still hasn’t gotten it. ze watched as others hit the home plate and had the coffee evaporate off of them, but - not on their end. calling luis can wait until ze gets a shower.

“sorry it took a bit to call you.”

tot sits on the couch in hir apartment, later, bandages deemed unsalvageable and discarded. the loss of them feels  _ less  _ in the comfort of hir own home, somehow, but it still makes hir fidget, free hand picking at the edge of hir shorts. “the new weather is uncomfortable, i had to get a shower after the game. feels like- the hand of god came down from the clouds and poured giant cups of coffee over us. i had too much fabric on my person to absorb it.

“the milk proxy society has some more garages on it, though. hung out with malik and goodwin before the games started- did you ever get to meet goodwin? you were gone before that election, weren’t you. she’s… something. nice, but- came from an alternate universe where things were worse, somehow.” tot shakes hir head. “we all got poured over at some point or another. fwxbc won the round- we’re moving on, again. maybe we’ll get to the finals at this rate.

“the sibr data witches made it, too, so that’s who we’re against next. the only guest team to make it this far. i’ll let you know how that goes, too. i’m getting used to playing in the crabitat, i think, it’s… something. feels eerie without a team inside - well, its team inside. we’re like…” tot tilts hir head back on the cushion. “we’re like a pacemaker. for the stadium.”

a pause.

“it’s not a one to one metaphor,” ze says, dry, “but the point’s the same. we’re getting used to it. i don’t know what will happen when we leave. it’ll… survive, probably. it’s lasted this long without you all. we’re taking care of it while we can. maybe i can steal the keys and come back later. stash them away in the observatory so the others can grab them, too. i haven’t visited, since the coffee cup started. ver already told me there’s no update.”

tot gets up and starts walking to hir bedroom, humming into the receiver. “you told me once you don’t have a voicemail length limit anymore, right? that would make all of this kind of pointless.” ze lies down on hir bed and settles. “i’ll call you after the sibr games end, see if we get to the finals. wish me lu-” a yawn. “luck. caffeine crash is finally hitting. sleep well, love you. see you soon.”

_ click. _

-

“we beat the sibr data witches. kicked their asses, really.” tot grins a little, ducking hir head. doesn’t try to keep it out of hir voice. “you’ll see us in the finals. maybe i’ll have a cup win under my belt when you get back.”

arturo comes into hir line of sight, waving, and ze remembers the party set for after the game, celebrating getting into the finals even if they don’t end up winning. holds up a finger. “we’re having a party, to celebrate. i’ll talk to you later- make sure to keep an eye out, up there. love you, see you soon.”

_ click. _

-

third game. the fwxbc are going to lose, for the third time. jaylen’s been getting at it in hir text history, and tot’s not worrying about the fact that maybe ze shouldn’t be checking hir phone in the middle of a game, because it  _ really  _ doesn’t matter.

ze hits a double in the ninth inning and it’s not enough, but - ze tried. that’s good enough for hir.

it’s… disappointing, though. tot ignores the pit in hir chest when the winning team gets nothing but strangely glowing cups of coffee to drink and a visit from the Coin, all business-casual and annoying, and if ze could move ze’d try to charge the ethereal mound She’s standing on. the rest of the garages feel the same, ze’s sure, from where they’re standing, or watching. maybe the former crabs do too. 

none of them get the chance. maybe someday. the fwxbc goes out and crowds into a diner and eats breakfast-at-dinner and other teams crowd in there too, and there’s a cat on the table and tot almost forgets they lost. luis’ number gets dialed halfway through and there’s too much chatter to really say anything, but ze manages to get out that they lost, and malik steals the phone and introduces goodwin,  _ again,  _ and arturo says hi even though it’s a lost effort (maybe  _ because  _ it’s a lost effort.) 

it’s the most lively voicemail ze’s sent, tot thinks, holding the receiver up to hir ear after a half-hour of it being passed around. “i think if i wait any longer, socks is going to eat my pancakes,” ze tells luis, “and i’m sure everyone else talked your ear off. love you, see you soon. i’ll have to win our next match to make up for this.” 

“i’ll be sure not to pitch that round!”

“goodwin, i think you should- crabs down-”

“i’m trying to end the phone call, malik-”

“ _ yeah,  _ malik!”

“hey-!”

_ click! _

**Author's Note:**

> crabs down PLEASE... i am asking so politely
> 
> you can find me on twitter @ ghostcatboys and on tumblr @ catboydeicide, or in the crabitat, very much on my bullshit


End file.
